An Error in Judgement
by Serssen
Summary: Another side to Hanssen...


He sat at the bar and ordered himself a double whiskey, shaking his head when the barman asked if he wanted ice. He saw three young businessmen at the other end of the bar, laughing and joking and gathered from the scraps of conversation drifting his way that they were catching a flight the following morning to a financiers conference in Brussels. They were all so confident, so bombastic. The barman returned with his drink and Hanssen gave an imperceptible little sigh. He hated airport hotels.

He took a sip of his drink and asked himself again why he was there. His phone lay beside him on the bar, powered off. He was supposed to be on a flight back to Stockholm.

He had been back in Holby for the last three weeks. He had not contacted anyone other than his son to say that he was in the UK and did not know when he would return to Sweden. The real question however was not _when_ but _if_ he would return to Sweden. It had all been too much too soon, he reasoned to himself for the millionth time. You can't spend the majority of your life on the outside, alone, and then suddenly drop into family life as though its perfectly normal.

"Do you mind if I…?"

Hanssen's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a young woman. She indicated to the barstool next to his. There was a long stretch of empty barstools between him and the group of young businessmen. Why would she choose to sit there, he wondered. He indicated that he didn't mind and the young woman perched herself on the barstool, adjusting her skirt that had ridden up slightly. No, Hanssen mentally corrected, she didn't adjust her skirt she simply ran her hands over the hem. She drew attention to her skirt. And thus her legs. Long, tanned bare legs. Hanssen turned away and took another sip of his drink. The barman was busy at the other end of the bar although Hanssen noted the woman made no concerted effort to get his attention anyway. She flicked her long blonde hair and checked her phone briefly before putting it into her bag.

"Why so sad?"

Hanssen met the young woman's curious gaze and rather than reply he simply raised an eyebrow.

"Are you coming or going?" she persisted in conversation and again Hanssen offered nothing more than a quizzical look. "Airport hotel. Are you arriving or leaving?" she elaborated. Somehow she caught his momentary look of uncertainty and smiled knowingly. "Oh dear! Like that is it?"

Hanssen didn't know what to say and before he had time to formulate a response the woman continued.

"Where are the people you love? Here or where ever your 'not here' is?"

"Do you always ask such impertinent questions of strangers?" he snapped finally.

"Not _always."_ She grinned. "But at least it got a reaction, I was beginning to think you didn't speak English." She proffered her hand. "My name's Carla."

Hanssen hesitated but his manners won out and he shook her hand. "Michael." He had no idea why the name Michael had left his lips.

Carla beamed cheerfully at him, "It's nice to meet you Michael. Now we're not strangers any more!" she said.

Despite himself and his wariness, Hanssen found himself responding with a half smile at the woman's glee. The barman returned to their side of the bar and hovered, asking if Carla wanted a drink. She turned to Hanssen.

"Well, Michael. If we're going to get to the root of why you're so sad then I think I'm going to need a drink."

Hanssen gave a short huff. "Why don't you join those young men down there, I am certain they would be only too happy to buy you drinks."

"They would keep me in drinks all night." she nodded in agreement. "But you're more interesting."

She was clearly a scam artist, Hanssen thought, but for some reason he found her somewhat intriguing.

"So? You buying?" she asked again. And after a moment's further hesitation Hanssen nodded. "A glass of champagne please." she told the barman and at Hanssen's look of surprise she added, "You look like you can afford it." She flicked her hair again, biting her bottom lip and smiling at him.

"You can have your drink but then I suggest you move on." said Hanssen.

"But we're just getting to know each other." she pouted.

"I am not buying." Hanssen said firmly.

"But you just said…" she looked confused.

"I don't mean the drink. I'll pay for that but…" Hanssen paused, unsure of how to best phrase what he was trying to say. "I am not interested in any… _services_ you may be offering."

She smiled and gave him a steady gaze. "Who said I was _offering_ anything?" she asked in a low voice.

Hanssen simply looked at her knowingly and she laughed. "Look, it's a slow night. I'm happy to make do with chit chat and free champagne."

"You have had all you are getting from me. I suggest you look for someone else to fund the rest of the night's champagne." Hanssen finished the last of his whiskey and pocketed his phone.

"Oh don't go! If you leave me sitting here on my own those guys will start coming on to me." she complained.

"Isn't that what you want?" he asked.

"Blokes like that expect it for free!" she said.

"Ah." She had obviously deduced that he was the type who would be willing to pay.

"No, don't take it like that!" she said spotting the look on his face. "I didn't want anything rough tonight, I thought… you look like a gent. And a bit lonely so… Win win I thought. I don't get some drunk bastard and you get some cheering up."


End file.
